


And Hey, Thanks for Listening

by BurntTea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Slow Build, and by that i mean he swears a lot, but you don't have to have listened to it to understand this story, continuous desert road trips, heavily inspired by welcome to night vale, if that exists, keith is like a more aggressive cecil, radio broadcaster keith, radio crush to romance, wandering shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntTea/pseuds/BurntTea
Summary: The long stretch of desert road is all Shiro can find comfort in after losing his right arm and being discharged from the Air Force. He took to the road in a beat up truck with only the radio as his sole companion. While he tries to find himself out in the desert, something else finds him. And he can't help but listen to the mysterious smooth voice on the tinny radio that reports of a strange, strange little desert town that he can't quite find.An AU heavily influenced by Welcome to Night Vale and desert night skies. Or where Shiro tries to find himself but instead finds a weird radio broadcast about a very weird town that Keith reports about on the radio.





	1. Long Roads and Strange Radio Frequencies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. It's my first time posting a story here, so I'm sorry for anything that doesn't look right. I'll do my best to learn and fix any issues.
> 
> This story is once again, very heavily influenced by the podcast Welcome to Night Vale, but you don't have to have listened to it before reading this. It's a good listen though, and it makes this story less weird if you have.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

A long road is sometimes the only medicine for those whose hearts can't walk forward, yet long for the journey. Shiro was one of those people, and in his opinion, there was no road long enough to fill the emptiness inside him that was left after he was honorably discharged from the Air Force.

His right hand clenched against the worn out steering wheel, noting that strangely he could feel the leather give way to his hand.

His metal hand.

It's been months since he had been fitted for the robotic prosthetic, an expensive compensation from the military for heroically losing his arm, but he still hasn't gotten used to the foreign but all too natural way the metal feels gripping things. Shiro's eyes switch from his hand to the vast landscape in front of his truck's dash hoping to forget about his mixed feelings of the appendage.

Ever since he was released back into civilian life, Shiro has felt a great emptiness he can't explain. He didn't miss the military life, but something was indeed missing. And not his long gone arm. The first thing he did was buy a truck. Though he had far enough money and then some from his military job, he bought a humble used black truck. Right then and there, Shiro packed up his few possessions and set off out the dealership's yard and into the desert road without looking back. He wasn't sure what made him drive out into I-50 with only the clothes he had and his hastily bought truck, but once he pulled onto the stretch, he felt that he could breathe much more clearly than he had for years.

But how long would this last for? Shiro has already forgotten how long he's been driving up and down the Interstate, wandering from motel to motel in a daze. To his embarrassment, the establishments now know him by face, though are polite to not ask about him or they just didn't care enough to ask. Shiro knows he should just settle back into his old town, visit his family, and start transitioning back to normal civilian life… but he just can't. Instead, he keeps driving.

The sun glows a slight crimson red and is tinged with orange in the distance. It's around evening and the desert air was coming down from its feverous heat to a cool chill. Shiro stretches his fingers on his left hand which he left hanging out his completely rolled down window. He felt the cooling wind run through his fingers and can't help but think about how it bothers him that his right hand will never feel that again.

"I have got to stop thinking like that." Shiro mutters to himself, shaking his head of the negative thoughts. He knows dwelling on that kind of stuff gets him nowhere but back to where he was before. A bad place. Sighing a deep breath from the recesses of his mind, he switches hands on the wheel and reaches to fiddle with the radio knob on his dash. Perhaps the radio will distract him from his mind.

While his truck was seemingly on the brink of death, it was completely functional to an extent. The one thing that was always reliable was the radio which picked up  radio stations pretty well despite the slightly bent antenna on the hood. Shiro wished the engine could learn a little from the radio, although he's come to love the truck no matter how difficult it was. It was his friend on the lonely desert road who would sit in peaceful silence with him for long stretches without judgement. Only when Shiro felt a bit too alone with his thoughts, he would turn on the radio and sit with the company of tinny country songs and the drone of local news. He tuned the radio to some obscure radio station playing old blues songs continuously and drove on for a few hours listening to guitars and harmonicas while absentmindedly counting passing cactus until it was too dark to see them.

It was when his faithful radio started spluttering static into the choking strands of guitar that he looked up from his cactus counting and turned his attention to his truck. That was very strange. The radio had never done that before, even in the more rough and deserted parts of the road.

"Oh no, maybe this your end," he fusses at the radio, twisting the knob gently as if trying to prod it back to health. Shiro hummed softly to himself, genuinely confused why the radio to his old rickety truck was suddenly not working. Suddenly mid-twist, the radio comes to a complete silence. Not even a static squeak.

Shiro couldn't help but notice the lack of concern to the loss of his friend. Before he could think about what that could mean about his mental state, the radio comes back to life in a burst of loud static. The loud noise makes Shiro flinch and jerk his truck a bit off the road.

"-Ah!" Shiro's hand darts out to lower the volume down while the screeching static simmers to a slow hum and then to his surprise, to a smooth and gentle voice.

" _A friendly desert town where the sand is blistering, the moon is never seen, and big purple cat-eared beings wander around with buzzing rifles that glow an eerie violet. Welcome to Volt Vale."_

Shiro's hand rested frozen on the volume knob. His eyes crawled up to the LED display on the dash. The display on the radio reads '???' when it clearly was on 99.9 FM.

"What radio station is this?" he asks himself, trying to turn the radio knob again. No matter where he turned the knob, the display was stuck on the three question marks as if displaying Shiro's thoughts. It may have been stuck on this unknown radio station, but at least it worked. Shiro reluctantly settles back into his seat, resigning to listening to the oddly catchy intro music.

" _Hello, listeners,"_ The voice begins, " _to start things off, I have to remind everyone that no one, and I mean no one, is to approach the old Volt Vale Electrical Plant. Self-Appointed Deputy Sheriff Slav is pissed off that teenagers have been breaking in and disturbing the alternate realities residing within the non-functional plant. Please stop 'cause he's fucking annoying when he's pissed. Like he just keeps talking and talking."_

Shiro can't help but chuckle at whatever he was listening to. He's never heard of a Volt Vale in all the towns he's passed by. It was probably one of those old comedy radio shows he's heard about from his father a long time ago. Shiro's never heard one on the radio himself, but he supposes they still make them.

" _Shit-I mean, excuse my language. Station management keeps breathing fire down my neck every time I swear on air. To be honest, I don't think anyone minds and I'm not about to stop. Also, I think the only reason I still get to keep my job here even though I break almost every rule in their book is because I'm the reason why people still listen to this radio station. Not to brag of course."_

What a casual radio station, Shiro thinks. The radio broadcaster was, in a sense, charming that he was so straightforward.

" _But enough about me breaking stuff, we'll move onto the news._

_Old Woman Haggar, that lives in the outskirts of town, was seen once again talking to the Druids. We all know the Druids are one of the many groups of hooded figures in our town who do god knows what when the sun goes down. They are not to be trusted at all. Or at least I still don't trust them. They spend all their time in the pass between here and the next town. They never talk to anyone, except for Old Woman Haggar, of course. But witnesses have told me that they saw another person with Old Woman Haggar while she was speaking to the Druids. Who is this person, where are they now, and why. Just why."_

Shiro wasn't sure what the plot was for this radio show. He wasn't even sure this was a show at all. But nonetheless, he continued to listen to it. It was now getting late and the next rest stop with a motel was still half an hour away. It wasn't like he could switch to a different station anyways.

" _Whatever Old Woman Haggar and her new friend were saying to the Druids isn't really my concern. But some people think it's important. Some people think it has something to do with the disappearance of those four kids and the humming at the old Volt Vale Electrical Plant that hasn't been in use since it shut down years ago. I think some people should really mind their own business. And by some people I mean Gossipy Mailman Lance._

_Yes, you, Lance. You know who you are. For listeners who don't know Lance, consider yourself lucky. And also, are you okay? No matter if you wanted to or not, everyone in good health should know Gossipy Mailman Lance. He works at the Volt Vale Post Office and practically talks to everyone on a daily basis. Unnecessarily, he makes long ass chats with you in the morning while delivering you your mail when all you want to do is go back to your bed. I would ignore him and just yank my bills from his long well-manicured hands and maybe throw orange juice at him, but he always seems to piss me off before making his deliveries._

_Say for instance today. This morning I was having my small breakfast of Fruit Loops and Oreos when I hear none other than Gossipy Mailman Lance's high pitched screeching from my front porch. He was making such a big deal about how my rose bushes were dying and how I don't treat them or myself well enough. I told him to fuck off before he handed me my mail-order pocket knife which he also criticized. I could hear him across my yard from my neighbor what's-his-face both gossiping about my rose bushes. We live in a desert. Here, dying is natural for roses. Leave me alone, Lance."_

Shiro has never heard a radio broadcaster so blatantly call out members of his community out on air so freely. It was for some reason, refreshing, though he felt pity for the mailman.

" _Speaking of the Volt Vale Post Office_ , _I should also remind you all that we are not to ever speak of it."_

Too late, thinks Shiro. He can't help but find himself chuckling softly at the ironic humor(?) of the radio broadcast show.

_"And we are not to send mail to the Volt Vale Post Office. Please do not send any sort of mail or packages to the post office. Leave your mail and anything you need mailed on your front porch and Gossipy Mailman Lance will come pick it up for you. What he does with them I will never know, but unlike him I know not to probe into things that are none of my business."_

Shiro has long given up trying to follow the plot of the show and has taken to just listening to the ramblings of the radio broadcaster. His voice was soothing like the night sky, and Shiro wasn't sure why but he felt like he was listening to an old friend retell his day to him. Perhaps that was why it was so easy and relaxing to listen to this strange universe the show was creating.

_"Oh, I almost forgot. A message from our sponsor._

_Fire, it burns in my throat. Red, irony, and spicy. I watch as all burns to the ground._

_I saw. I saw it. I see it._

_The ground trembles beneath my feet like a chuckle from some evil below. The heartbeat thumped louder but not from my chest._

_Guilt wreaks havoc like a wildfire and I can't breathe. I can only taste the air._

_Fire, it burns in my throat. Red, irony, and spicy. I watch as all burns to the ground._

_This message has been brought to you by Big Hunk's Pizza."_

There was only one emotion running around in Shiro's mind. Confusion. Which he has to say, was not expected at all, yet completely expected.

_"Now that we've gotten that over with, let's move on to the weather._

_It's kinda warm, not too hot today. But also it's fucking cold. Don't forget to bundle up tonight. Expect a high chance of snow and loud wailings from the east."_

The short and curt, yet odd weather statement reminded Shiro that it was getting a lot chillier in his truck that came with no heater or air conditioner whatsoever. He was glad there was only another mile or two until he reaches the next rest stop. Watching the road run beneath the yellow head lights, he falls back into his trance listening to the radio broadcaster's voice wrapping up the weather report.

_"You know what's really good during a cold night like this? A big slice of Big Hunk's Pizza. No advertisement intended. I mean, Big Hunk's Pizza is also our only pizzeria in town since all the other ones mysteriously burned down last year, but like, god it's so good. Usually on Wednesdays, Lance and I would meet up at Big Hunk's Pizza with our friend Pidge, who many of you know as our town's Local Scientist. We share a pizza with Hunk, the owner of Big Hunk's Pizza, and catch up on each other's lives. It's a shame we don't do it as often as we did it back when we were high school friends. But also I'm not sure we went to high school at all._

_Sometimes it feels like the past was all a dream. Or a nightmare depending on how you look at it. Sometimes dreams feel like the past and the future is a nightmare. No matter how you look at it, you can't wake up."_

Shiro passes the green exit sign signaling the rest stop ahead. He can't help but feel his heart thudding a little louder at the radio broadcaster's words.

 _"But whatever, right?"_   Shiro could swear he hears a slight pause afterwards. Something soft and quiet. Just as quick as he had thought he heard it, the radio broadcaster continues on a bit louder than before.

_"Well listeners, it's about time I wrap up. This is Keith, speaking to you, to someone I hope, to anyone who still bothers to listen, for the Volt Vale Community Radio._

_Good night, listeners. Good night. And hey, thanks for listening."_

The radio eerily cuts to silence after the soft farewell the radio broadcaster -Keith, the name echoing in Shiro's head like a mantra- ends and slowly fades back into the blues music that it was tuned to before the odd event. As if nothing had ever happened, the display lights '99.9 FM' and guitar fills the now more lonely than ever truck.

Shiro licks his dry lips before pulling into the dim motel parking lot, tasting salt and something else. He sat in his now shut off truck under the one lamppost with the occasional flickering light, not moving to get out. The entire half hour he had spent on the road left a haunting aftertaste in his mouth. One that he didn't quite dislike, but rather wanted more of. It was a strange radio show, but at the same time, Shiro wasn't sure it really existed. It was so surreal that he could have, very possibly, made the entire thing up. But deep down Shiro knew he didn't. Keith's voice was so smooth and solid in his memory. He couldn't have possibly imagined that.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the smoky and salty air around the motel parking lot through his open windows. Both hands gripped the steering wheel. The feeling of leather beneath his right no longer bothered him as much as before. He had something else on his mind.

Finally, Shiro sighs, dropping his head onto the top of the steering wheel. A wide smile beamed across his face hidden only by the darkness of the desert night and illuminated by only the one beam of light from the flickering lamppost. He couldn't help but feel… he couldn't find a word for it. One that accurately portrayed what he felt inside. He was sure there was a word for it, but he hasn't felt it in so long.

When he does get out of his truck, he stretches his aching legs. The chilling desert air bites at his exposed arms and legs through his tank top and shorts. It's only then he feels the strange adrenaline rushing through him, making his hands and legs tremble with excitement.

Ah, he thinks. That's the word.

"I feel so exhilarated," he ends up blurting out to no one but himself in the empty and dim parking lot.

Now that he knows exactly what he's feeling, he doesn't want to let it go. He's determined to find that radio show again. If not for the strange yet entertaining story, but for that smooth and oddly relaxing voice. Keith's words echo in his mind once again.

_"Thanks for listening."_

"Thanks for speaking," Shiro giddily whispers to the empty dark, which unbeknownst to him, was reached to Keith by ways beyond either of their understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the story is kinda slow. I tried to capture the essence of the Welcome to Night Vale podcasts in Keith's broadcasting. Shiro's exhilaration after listening to Keith's broadcast is probably close to what I feel after listening to WTNV or when I finish a really good book. I hope that didn't come off as too weird haha.


	2. Beef Jerky and Floating Cats

An involuntary yawn breaks the silence of the stale morning atmosphere in a quiet gas station convenience store.

Shiro rubs his eyes with one flesh hand and turns another page of the magazine he was riffling through with a morning-chilled metal one. He's been standing in the magazine section of the small convenience store next to the motel he stayed in last night. It was filled to the brim with all sorts of colorful items from road snacks and scratch-off lottery tickets to boxed inflatable pools and spare tires for a car Shiro can't imagine it fitting. For such a well-stocked store, Shiro would have hoped that it had more magazines, but to his dismay the small rack full of more map pamphlets than anything else were all he could find for his investigation.

Shiro had started his morning with a cup of complimentary motel coffee. Not the best thing he's tasted, though when drunk hot and pitch black, it did its job of staving off whatever sleepiness remained from his fitful rest last night. He drank two cups, sheepishly avoiding the motel manager's glare as he made his way out with his third. His third cup rested on top of the magazine rack he towered over while putting back one of the magazines he had flipped through. He had to move multiple pairs of sunglasses with outrageous price tags hanging off them to the side as he reached for _'Music Lover's Digest: On the Road Tunes'_ with its promising boast of _'Complete list of local radio stations inside!'_.

Flipping directly to the page with the list of radio stations, Shiro's finger glided down the list of numbers and listed genres of each station. Every station his eyes glossed over was met with disappointment that it wasn't what he was looking for.

To be fair, he wasn't really sure what he was looking for. Ghost radio station about fictional comedic news reports? Mysterious evening radio show that takes over your radio system? Cryptid radio stations?

A frustrated sigh came from Shiro to his surprise. He was very much invested in finding this radio show again; however, all his efforts seemed to be unanswered. He had flipped through several local maps to try to find any sort of town called Volt Vale the show could have been based on. His eyes had followed every red and blue vein in the fold-up map of the state of Arizona hoping to find anything relating to Volt Vale.

He took another sip from his now cold coffee. How long had he been standing here at the magazine rack? The small analog clock hung at the front above the cashier was broken. Its thin red hands were perpetually frozen at 5:39 as it didn't look like the owner of the store was going to change it any time. It seemed fitting, thought Shiro. It didn't seem like time ever passed in this small empty convenience store. People rarely stopped at this stretch of road, opting for the larger truck stop a few miles further even if the gas prices here were the lowest around the area.

Shiro made a mental note to gas up his truck before leaving. He would absolutely hate to be stranded out in the desert road without gas. He would absolutely hate it even more if he was stranded out in the desert road during the freezing cold night. It was for this reason Shiro went to meticulous lengths to watch his gas tank and never let it drop past the last gauge. He was thankful that his truck, though old and falling apart, had such good mileage.

Mulling over his cold cup of motel coffee, Shiro decides to give up with his gas station research and wandered over to the snacks section. He picked up a simple bag of teriyaki beef jerky and strode on over to the cashier who made it obvious he didn't enjoy Shiro's long perusal of his fine establishment's selection of literature without buying any. Shiro also asked to pay for gas to which he only received a grunt of confirmation as he handed over the cash. He quickly gassed up his truck and left the disgruntled store owner who seemed to be happier that he didn't have a customer mucking about his store.

With his tank full and snack in hand, Shiro continued his long journey to nowhere, though he supposed he had one destination he wanted to get to. Where that destination was, he didn't really know. At first, he had drove up and down the same stretch of road he had taken the night before his lifechanging encounter with the strange radio station, but eventually he found himself falling into the same rhythm of mindlessly driving straight on past the area. The drone of the static-y radio he had turned on only played the same few top chart songs in what seemed like a loop. He was disappointed that what played wasn't the calming voice of a questionable radio host. He thought to himself that perhaps the station only aired during the evenings. He would just have to patiently wait and see. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do.

As the day rolled by with Shiro mindlessly driving and stopping at rest stops in a daze, he finally took notice of his long-forgotten bag of beef jerky. He hadn't eaten the entire day, not having much of an appetite for the few fast food joints he had passed. He recalled a time when he really enjoyed a greasy burger dripping with melty, unnaturally colored yellow cheese and topped with crisp cool lettuce and tomato slices that made it less guilty to eat the rest of it and order a second one. He remembered at the beginning of his military career that his buddies and he would crave their favorite fast food and even dream about them at night when things got lonely. Slowly, their cravings were forgotten as time passed. Now, Shiro can't even find it in him to want to even look at a burger.

He ripped open the bag of beef jerky with one hand and his teeth. The smell of sweet teriyaki met his nose and it was then that he realized he was very hungry. Shiro knows he should eat better, or as best as he can with fast food on the road, yet somehow it always becomes the last thing on his mind until he is starving. He scarfed down three pieces of the chunky beef before catching himself and slowing down and actually tasting what he was eating.

It's slightly salty. Very sweet. The sugary taste of teriyaki flavoring overpowers his tongue and it only takes a few bites of it to have Shiro reaching for his bottle of water in the cupholder. The slight tangy-ness left on his tongue balances the sugary taste so he continues to chew on it. Shiro didn't really enjoy sweets all that much, so it's a bit hard for him to eat once he tastes the sugar in it. He wonders if he liked candy as a child. He can't quite remember nowadays.

He's halfway through the bag as he notices the sun setting behind the sandy mountains. The reddish-orange light seeps into the sand and sparse foliage, casting a shadow seeming to swallow up all the light.

"Oh," he stops chewing mid-thought. He's nowhere near where he was last night. He's in a whole different state now and completely forgot to turn around a few rest stops before. Mentally cursing at himself, he eyes a passing green sign stating the next rest stop with a motel was 40 miles away. There was nothing remarkable about that town, but it was nearby to a much larger town that was very memorable. He remembers that town very well. It was an eccentric town that boasted their tourist attractions of cryptids and alien sightings. Not that Shiro had ever paid interest into it in his many trips there. Although, this time around, he has a newfound curiosity as an excuse to stay longer. As he made plans to stop by the larger town for hopeful research, the sound of electronic pop music cut short.

The radio cut to silence and an eerily long pause passed before a jolt of static caught Shiro's attention.

"It can't be…" Shiro finds himself sitting up straighter and peering at the glowing radio display. The sight of three question marks makes his breath hitch, and suddenly Shiro is holding the longest breath he's ever taken.

_"There's absolutely nothing out in the desert. Absolutely nothing but answers we didn't know we need and answers we didn't know there were._

_Welcome to Volt Vale."_

As the soft intro music fades in, Shiro breaks out of his shock and nearly chucks his bag of beef jerky out the passenger window. He quickly moves the shirts he's been leaving in the passenger seat and rummages around with one hand looking for the map he had bought a while back. It's in a state of crumpled mess when he does snag it, and it almost rips getting caught on the edge of the seat where a corner was tucked in.

His eyes dart over the map quickly while keeping an eye on the road, but he was clearly able to tell that he was definitely nowhere near where he was last night. He knows for a fact that the small radio stations from tiny towns wouldn't reach very far and certainly not to the next state, yet here his radio was spitting out soothing notes of an intro he didn't expect.

"How in the world…?" he asks to himself, quieting down as the music faded away. There was no way this small radio station could reach this far, though Shiro supposed he should be glad he even found it again. He settles back into his seat and puts his map away neatly. Shiro felt a bit silly, but nevertheless, he had his full attention on the radio and eagerly awaited like an excited child for Keith to start tonight's story.

_"Thanks for um, tuning in I guess. There's not much to really cover since we're such a small town. If you didn't already know something you'll probably hear it from someone else. Someone very gossipy."_

Shiro thought to himself that even if he lived in that mythical town of Volt Vale, he would still tune in and listen diligently every day. There was something alluring about a small radio reporting about your very own town. It invoked such a sense of connection that Shiro didn't think he would ever need, yet still wouldn't mind. That and he was quite fond of the voice behind it too. Keith had a strangely interesting way of speaking; both straightforwardly open, yet timidly personal.

_"Right, uh, we've got some news stories to cover today,"_

Shuffling papers could be heard from behind the mic. Shiro tried to imagine a figureless figure pushing papers around on a tiny radio desk as disgruntled sounds of contempt followed the fluttering of sheets as if the person doing it had lost the paper he needed. The thought made Shiro chuckle and look at his own mess on his passenger side. His eyes caught the haphazardly tossed bag of teriyaki beef jerky and reached over to grab it again.

_"-ahem, today, sources have found out the identity of who was with Old Woman Haggar the other night while she spoke with the Druids. This person, if you can call him that, is none other than the strange newcomer from a few weeks back named Zarkon. He's that big ass purple guy who kind of looks like an angry turtle. Like a really big fucking turtle. Also, who the fuck names their child Zarkon?_

_As his name concludes, he is a pretty strange guy. I've never met him before. He tends to stick to himself which is why it's weird that he chooses to talk with Old Woman Haggar. The two don't seem to have known each other until now, though sources say that they were pretty close eons ago. I think he's from that other town nearby. Galra Bluffs. No one can confirm if he really is since no one ever goes there. People come from Galra Bluffs, but no one ever goes there. Or tried to anyways. I heard it sucks."_

"Galra Bluffs…" Another town Shiro has never heard of. He also can't think of any towns it could have been based off either. It probably was a fictional town and so was Volt Vale. Shiro was saddened that such an interesting town wasn't real. Still, a good story was a good story after all. Shiro reached for another piece of beef jerky. The meat was getting tougher and drier than he remembered.

_"The recent election for our town mayor is also coming to an end this week. I've been told to say that every vote counts so make sure to hit the polls as soon as you can before they close. Our current mayor, Mayor Alfor is still showing great popularity with the townsfolk and I wouldn't be surprised if he was re-elected again this year. He has been our mayor for a couple centuries, yet he's still as top shape as ever._

_He's also one of the main supporters of our small community radio station. You know who I'll be voting for. But don't let my opinions sway yours. Although it'd be nice to keep my job. Again, not that it's important. Just remember,_

_'A vote a day, keeps the inter-dimensional enemies at bay!'_

_This message was brought to you by Mayor Alfor._

_Among the rumors of Mayor Alfor winning the elections again, we have had several suggest the polls are rigged. Poll counts are really high this year, though that's only because of the shadow votes that come from our other citizens. That and the great number of new citizens from Galra Bluffs._

_Have any of you noticed that there's a lot of new people from Galra Bluffs living here now? I've never seen so many purple furred people walking in the streets with big laser guns. Every time I leave my house, there's a new one on each street corner. I mean, everyone's welcomed to live here, but honestly why would anyone want to?"_

"I would." Shiro says unconsciously. "I would definitely live there," he continues out loud, seemingly to no one except the radio. He was surprised at his automatic response. For the past few months, all he could think about was driving down the desert road. He didn't feel like anywhere would feel like home, yet he was so quick to want to live in this fictional town. The realization that he was so invested in this made-up town to the point where he would want to live in it made him a bit embarrassed to admit. He could feel his face heat up and tried to quell it by stuffing his mouth with another piece of sweet dried meat.

_"Here’s some more news, although, it's not really about the town specifically. It's actually more domestic news about our small radio station. I'm sure you don't care, but honestly what else are you going to listen to?_

_This morning, Station Management and I found this small cat next to our coffee machine. She's a tiny little cat and I must say, very cute. She's also floating three feet above the ground, and she glows a blindingly bright red. Still very cute. I'm happy that Station Management allowed us to keep her here if she wanted to stay. Well, I mean she's also stuck floating next to our coffee machine, but it's the thought that counts."_

Shiro smiled at the adoration Keith gave to the small cat. Something about anyone gushing about a cat makes the heart feel warm.

_"Station Management wanted to name her Cinnamon, but I wanted to name her Red. We had a small argument over it. Red is a valid name. It's not unoriginal, it's just fitting, okay? In the end, she responded to Red more and that had nothing to do with me eating my tuna sandwich while we did this over lunch. Station management was not happy about it. In the end Red was agreed to be her name._

_I was worried Station Management would start arguing with me again. I never know which head to look at whenever that happens. God, it's like being confronted by a six-headed dragon isn't enough, she's got to be spitting fire in my face at the same time."_

Shiro thought this Station Management character was a real force to be reckoned with. He both feared her and respected that.

_"Red is very happy here at the station, though we do wonder how she got in. We don't really have a lot of opening for animals to get in, except for the holes for mice of course, but Red's too big to fit through them anyways. She's a strange cat, but I think there's something really special about her._

_She also won't drink anything except for cold coffee. I guess that's for the best. We only ever have cold coffee here anyways._

_Our Intern Coran always makes cold coffee every hour of the day. He's been making cold coffee since… Huh, I've never really thought about how long Coran's been here for. I'm not sure why he's still an intern. I think he's been here long before me. He's been here since the station started, which was like when things started walking around here. Not sure why he's never been promoted. Maybe it's a lifestyle choice."_

Promotion was a strange concept to Shiro. What was it that made people want it? He supposed that in other jobs it was a well coveted thing. For him, each promotion he had brought new pains for him. He didn't associate promotion with progress. The higher up he went, the more things went backwards. He was falling back downwards until he met solid ground, but by then his arm couldn't hold himself up anymore.

The cold wind from the now night air brushed over his left arm. A part of him itched when it unevenly cooled his body. He didn't feel it on his right, despite all the windows being open in his truck. He forcefully refocused his attention to Keith's voice on the radio.

_"I don't like cold coffee. I like my coffee hot, but it seems like the only thing Coran can make is cold brew coffee. He says it's good for the body and good for the soul. I think it's bullshit and the coffee machine's actually broken and he won't fix it. Some think it would probably be best to throw it out and buy a new one. A lot of the staff think it's a bother to check if it's broken, and they keep using it like that._

_I want to take it home and see if I can fix it, except everyone's using it so I can't. I don't really like throwing stuff away before I try to fix it. Maybe it's the resourceful poverty in me, but throwing something away before giving it a chance seems cruel to me."_

There's another one of those long pauses Keith sometimes makes before he continues. Shiro thinks he never stopped speaking during those times.

_"Moving on, the traffic today is annoyingly crowded due to the energy waves emitting from the Volt Vale Electrical Plant. If the street isn't crowded with furry purple fuckers blocking the road, it's filled with congestion and it'll take hours to get through. It sucked having to drive my bike down here this morning. A motorcycle isn't made to move three centimeters forward only to stop for half an hour again."_

The road for Shiro was always sparsely filled with only one or two cars or the occasional freight truck. This sort of loneliness on the road was something Shiro would gladly have. It was amusing to Shiro imagining a Keith stuck in traffic on his bike. It was almost so mundane and normal compared to the rest of the events going on in the strange town aside from the energy waves and the purple people on the road.

_"Also, we don't have cars in Volt Vale."_

Ah, there it is, thought Shiro.

_"Just stay off the main roads until… midnight. Midnight sounds about right. Don't go out until midnight if you want to avoid the morning traffic. Sadly, I have to get home after this so I can't avoid it even if I want to. I swear I'm going to deck the next purple fucker I see if they block me for another hour. I'm fucking tired and I just want to go home."_

For a radio show, the guy playing this Keith character was really convincing in how exasperated and tired he was of life. Shiro supposed he might not have been acting after all.

_"That's about it for today. I'm going to give Red the rest of my tuna sandwich she was eyeing this morning. I didn't really have much of an appetite today and she didn't like the cat food Station Management got her either. I don't know why, but I'm in the mood for something really greasy, like Big Hunk's Pizza. Contrary to popular belief, I don't always eat there. Sometimes, I forget to eat. Sometimes, I eat to forget. Or drink, but whatever…_

_Sometimes, there's a hunger I can't feed and don't want to. Eventually I will have to. Eventually. For now, I'll stick to pizza because I like pizza. I'm going to eat all the pizza I want. There's no reason for me not to._

_Good night, listeners. Good night. And hey, thanks for listening as always."_

As the outro music slowly faded away, Shiro found himself licking the last bits of his beef jerky off his fingers. The overpoweringly sweet tangy taste of the teriyaki flavor was lost to his taste buds and mellowed down while he had been listening to the radio show. Not once did he have to reach for his water bottle during it.

Shiro tucked the folded bag into a crevice between his cupholder to be thrown away later. Surprisingly, he felt like he could still eat more of it. Or rather, he was still hungry which shouldn't have been a surprise. It was a strange feeling for Shiro. Not the hunger for food per se, but he felt like he had a new appetite for something he hasn't had for years.

He was in the mood for a greasy burger.

It was as if a dam was opened and his hunger seemed to be overflowing and overdue. Shiro was never gladder than ever to see a billboard with 'CARL'S SLOPPY BURGERS 24/7 EXIT 322'.

The next town would have to wait. He made the conscious decision for the detour and turned his truck out onto the exit without hesitation. Already he could smell the charbroiled burgers in the air, salted and spiced with the desert night. The combination of cool desert air and the scent of a charcoal grill was an enticing pull and Shiro felt the tug.

It wasn't long before Shiro was leaning on the hood of his truck under the clear night stars, a juicy hot-off-the-grill burger wrapped in crinkled aluminum foil in his hand, aimlessly listening to a catchy tune from his truck's radio wafting through his rolled down windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry for not updating very fast.


	3. Triple Berry Yogurt and S.O.S. Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh... it's hard to write. Not physically, but you know. Anyways, thank you for still reading.
> 
> Took me a while to get this written and when I finally did, it started getting really long so I decided to cut it in half. I'll post the next chapter some time soon. Sorry about that.

The morning sun in the desert was never something Shiro really took in. It gives off a very different atmosphere compared to the fiery orange sunsets that try to hide behind sandy mountains at the end of the day. There's a chill in the air while the first streaks of light break off from the horizon, creating a canvas of soft blues and even softer pinks with scattered smoky clouds leftover from the night before.

Once Shiro took it all in, he had to say he agrees with many others who say dawn is beautiful and seemingly ethereal. But he also must say it looks a lot like the cup of berry yogurt he's eating for breakfast while staring out into the morning sky from the window of a fast food restaurant that seemed to never have slept.

Shiro licks the last of the creamy pink and purple yogurt off his plastic spoon and takes another look around the morning-quiet McDonalds.

Besides Shiro, there were very few people up and enjoying breakfast at such an early morning. Only one other person and a small family were sat scattered in the restaurant; both parties caught up in themselves and the morning without registering the presence of the others in this calm setting. It was peaceful, Shiro thought, and he found himself at ease in his lack of presence.

Picking up his trash, Shiro finished his small breakfast of yogurt and granola and moved to throw out the little evidence of his try at a meal. It wasn't much of a breakfast, but it's a big step forward for him. Usually, he skipped breakfast and sometimes other meals until he was starving and gulped down whatever he could find in gas stations. After his strange awakening with a charbroiled burger last night, he's found himself wanting to eat better. It surprised him though he was relieved that he finally could do this. It was as if the breath in his lungs were finally let out, and now there was room for nourishment.

As he exited towards the door, his eyes glanced to the sight of the small family in the middle of their breakfast. Shiro couldn't help but feel a warm bittersweet lump in his stomach at their domestic and fluffy scene. The kids happily scarfed down their syrupy pancakes and the parents chided them to eat slower while polishing off their own sausages and eggs. The scene was warm for the few seconds he glanced at them, but it was enough to make the yogurt in his stomach go sour. Small steps, he reminds himself. Small bites. He'll come to eat a full meal of pancakes and eggs someday like he used to. For now, a cup of yogurt was fine. Picking up his pace, Shiro drives his truck to the gas station to fuel up for yet another day on the road.

The sky was starting to transition to a brighter scene as he parked his truck at a pump and entered this rest stop's gas station. Or what seemed to pass as a gas station. If the last gas station he was at was stocked to the brim, this one was the complete opposite and had very few if anything to sell. Shiro wouldn't be surprised if they turned him down for gas saying they were out of everything.

A young lady at the cash register skimming what seemed to be a raunchy tabloid magazine absentmindedly blew bubbles with her gum. She ignored Shiro as he entered, not even batting a long voluptuous eyelash at the noise of the tiny chime stuck to the door. The store was mostly empty of both people and merchandise which made the woman seem almost out of place. Shiro related to that a little too much.

Strolling straight to the magazine section, Shiro could see that there was probably nothing that would help him in his search of the radio show he was so invested in if the very sparse section was to indicate anything. Nevertheless, he flipped through the small selection of magazines that might have just been things the cashier had read and discarded. He found a few fashion magazines, some celebrity gossip tabloids with people Shiro had no clue who they were, lifestyle magazines claiming to have the best fail-proof diet, and oh? Space and engineering magazines? Shiro flipped through them for a bit before resuming his hunt into the maps.

There were a few maps, but they were of the usual fold up ones of the local area. Sadly, there was no Volt Vale in sight. Colorful pamphlets advertising the next town over were shuffled and hid behind the few maps in the stack. Green and grey alien head logos littered about the fronts of the pamphlets, promising tourists a glimpse of the unknown at their stay in their town. A few even broadened the attractions to popularized cryptids such as the Chupacabra, two headed jackrabbits, and even Mothman and Big Foot; the latter of which Shiro thought were supposed to live in forested areas, but what did he know? He couldn't even find a radio station.

Shiro sighed and though he knew the chances were slim of finding anything about the radio show that he might have imagined, he was hoping to have some confirmation of its existence or non-existence by now. It was one thing to be depressed, but to be depressed and hallucinating? He was becoming concerned that perhaps this was all a questionable coping mechanism. The show was a little bit too interesting to him, and that voice- a little bit too much to his liking. He carefully rearranged the reading section back to how it was before he ransacked it or possibly a lot more organized than it ever was.

The other side of the small store was home to a small rack of snacks and what seemed to be camping and hiking supplies. Shiro quickly perused over the candy (more flavors of gum than Shiro thought existed) and landed his metal hand on a simple bag of trail mix. Not too sweet, not too salty, and just a little bit nostalgic.

One of his few memories of his past life was of the trail mix he would bring with him on morning jogs around the park at home. His sibling had often secretly stolen the fruit and chocolate chips from his trail mix, and he had let them with a sly and knowing eye. A wisp of sadness accompanied his memory, but he wipes it from his mind with the thumb he uses to roll across a piece of dried pineapple through the plastic bag.

Shiro darts his eyes away from the snacks and turns to the back aisle to change his thoughts only to find the hiking supplies and a stack of prepaid phones. Unconsciously, he catches himself trailing a finger across the smooth texture of blue nylon ropes and the soft, yet rough around the edge leather hiking boots. The sensation of leather against his fingers takes him back to when he first started his life in the military. Every night he would dutifully wipe and polish his boots after a grueling day of training.

If he remembered correctly, he was quite proud of them. Obviously, his pride for them didn't last. It's been months since he's even looked at them, and Shiro only clings to his one pair of ratty sneakers he brought and wore into the air force. He still has his old training garb hidden away in the back of his truck including some rope and supplies. They were never touched again since he tucked them under the back seats of his truck, almost as if trying to bury away evidence of a crime he committed.

Shiro's prosthetic hand accidentally bumps into the boxes of prepaid phones and sends the small stack tumbling to the ground in front of the snacks with a loud clattering noise. It startles him into a dreaded shock, but then he quickly looks around with an apology on his tongue. To his relief there is no one around to bother nor does the cashier even seem to have registered the disturbance he made. Sheepishly, Shiro starts to pick up the dropped boxes and his eyes glean over the words on the boxes.

_'…affordable minutes to call all your loved ones no matter where they are!'_

Suddenly, Shiro feels as though this trip into a seemingly empty gas station is a lot more of an arduous journey than he would have thought. No, he clarifies himself. It was more like a guilt trip.

He bites back a dreaded sigh as he puts the last box back on the shelf. His hand hovers above the box for a few seconds, almost reluctantly before letting go and snatching his hand back as if he would break it if he touched it again. In the back of his head, he knows he really should buy one if not for safety, then for the reason he's been avoiding it. It wasn't good to keep doing this as his old therapist had told him at his last and final session. He hasn't found it in him to call back to even the therapist.

Shiro spares the stack of prepaid phones one last look before ringing up his trail mix and his tank of gas. He can't make that call. Even though it's every right his call to make. He just didn't feel like it was.

The young woman at the cashier was still engrossed in her magazine when Shiro came to pay. She blew a few bubbles before registering there was someone in front of her, but after that all her attention was aimed at Shiro.

She chattered enthusiastically with him as she rang him up, telling him it was rare to have people come by into her store. She had in fact, not even noticed Shiro when he came in.

Shiro could see that she was very much enjoying her rare talk with a rare customer, but was starting to feel uncomfortable in a long conversation. He hasn't spoken to someone for this long since his therapy sessions, but he didn't have it in him to end the conversation with her. He didn't really know what to respond with, but politely nodded his head along with her.

He notices that her scent smells like sweet grapes, probably from her gum, and briefly wonders if she can smell the dust and cheap motel from his own scent. He dozes off slightly, the smell of grapes lulling him into a soft trance as she continues her conversation.

"…And so, you're probably the only other person that comes here anyways. There's this other guy that sometimes comes 'round buying those hiking supplies. Real funny guy, always off on a hiking or climbing trip somewhere. Says he's exploring the area nearby that breaks off from the main road on the highway, but I've been there before, and I've _never_ seen any other road."

The mention of a hidden road catches Shiro's attention and snaps him from his unintentional daze.

"Also, I think it's illegal to be hiking out there? Kinda worried 'bout him, ya know. He's a lil' weird, talking about stuff that doesn't make sense," she continues, scrunching up her nose trying to remember her other strange customer. "Just hope he's okay."

Shiro considers asking her what stuff the guy talked about but worries if he'll be questioned in return of what he's doing out here. She probably saw the curiosity in his reluctant face and goes ahead to explain.

"He was always talking about his experiments and finding proof of something, but of weird stuff like a sunset at four in the afternoon or a coastline running through the middle of Arizona." She pops another lilac bubble, "like I said, he was weird but also interesting."

Shiro was also interested in weird, and he kept that information stored in the back of his head a little to the left of the demons he finished dusting off.

The cashier hands him his receipt and thanks him for indulging her in such a long conversation. Shiro verbally thanks her for her service and mentally thanks her for the interesting information. It might be a long shot taking seriously the ramblings of someone who might be crazy, but Shiro is halfway there too he reckons. If he can manage to find the mysteriously hidden road off the highway, it might just lead him to an equally mysterious town.

With his truck gassed up and his new goal, Shiro sets off on the road again with his trail mix in hand.

The sun's up high in the sky by the time he's on the dusty roads again. Its scorching rays beat down onto the metal roof of Shiro's truck. As Shiro wipes the sweat from his brow onto his already sweaty arm, he thinks perhaps buying a black truck for a journey into the desert was not the best idea he ever had. The truck makes a strange grunt in response to his thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry girl. I didn't mean it. You're a great truck, and I have some sort of faith that you won't let me die out there." He pats the wheel with his metal hand to consolidate his old friend. It makes the grunting noise again but a little louder and more concerning. "I hope," Shiro adds.

Despite its shortcomings, his truck is still more than useful to Shiro both functionally and mentally. While he has passed by many used car dealerships and had more than enough money to trade his own in for a more practical one, something didn't sit right in Shiro's stomach to do so. He lets the texture of the leather steering wheel sink in under his metal fingertips. No, he thinks, I won't do that.

He drives onwards for a while, stopping here and there for rest but never really stopping. It's still a bit to the next town from where Shiro was, but he's sure he'll hit it before nightfall. The day winds into the early afternoon as he drives through a particularly mountainous area. Dust can visibly be seen in the air through the sun's rays as he drives, though it's a lot cooler than before. The wind has also picked up, whooshing through crevices in the rocky cliffs of the mountains.

Quietly, the radio chirps a sweet acoustic guitar melody from some nearby station, lyrics swept away in the rush of wind from his open windows. Shiro leans back a little and stretches out his spine with a satisfying crack.

It was peaceful, he thought. More peaceful than any other drive he had down this road. He's been on this same stretch of road many times, though he never really looked at it. He supposes it's because he's also looking for an extra path off the road, but he's glad nonetheless that he's now taking in all the desert has to offer.

He's so comfortable, he feels like he could just fall right asleep at the wheel to the little tune in the air and smell of dusty and slightly iron-y rocks. He's glad he doesn't when his radio starts to cut off and he is shaken back into reality.

Immediately, he looks at the sun in the sky and the time on his dash. Not exactly evening, but his breath is still held precariously in anticipation. Disappointingly, the radio's display doesn't change but continues to search for another station.

Shiro huffs a sigh of disappointment and looks around the area he's driving in. It was a very mountainous area with few cars or people around. Everywhere his eyes dart around, a mountain takes up his view completely. If Shiro had a phone, it would probably have no signal out here.

It was then that Shiro's eye catches a rugged tail of a road winding down a mountain about a mile ahead of him. He had to rub the sleepiness from his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and that there was definitely another road coming down from the more desolate area to the right.

"That must be what she was talking about," Shiro mutters to himself, almost in his own disbelief. "That or I'm hallucinating again."

A minute more of driving and Shiro could see a little rugged dirt road connecting to the edge of the interstate highway. It looks incredibly shady but also seemed well used despite how few cars and trucks passed by this part of the desert. Shiro shows no hesitation to pull off to the side where the new road connects to the highway.

While he puts his truck into park, one question comes to his mind that he can't help but ask himself out loud. "What the fuck am I doing?"

Here he was sitting at the edge of the road, minutes before ready to just hop out into the hot desert to look for an imaginary town. It really sinks into him what he was about to do now that he's not driving. It was dangerous, incredibly stupid, and probably in vain. Even if his conscious mind tells him no, something else beyond it is nudging him towards something out there, gently convincing him and pulling him along. Whatever is out there might not even be a town, but his own death.

Shiro tries not to think about how little that mattered to him now. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the earthy air that calms his thoughts.

As the dust settled in his lungs, his mind also settled on his decision. Probably a rash decision.

Shiro promptly twists around his seat and reaches his arm into the back of his truck, digging around for some old, filthy backpack he never thought he'd want to see again. When his hand meets well-worn leather, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before pulling it into his lap.

It's a fairly heavy pack given how much of his supplies he had kept in there. The weight was grounding to him if anything. Survival supplies given to him during his days in the air force were still tucked away within the pack almost like a forgotten time capsule that Shiro had buried in a dark hole. As he opened it, the musk of fifty men stuck on the same base for months hits him in the face and he grimaces at the scent. It's not something he misses. He wants nothing more but to hurl the bag out the window and drive as far away from it as possible.

Instead, he finds his pair of old boots. They're just as musky as the rest of the pack, and the soles were nearly worn down now. But they'll do for now.

Shiro steps out and ties his boots onto his feet for the first time since he stepped out as a civilian. They feel foreign on him as if they were another man's shoes, and he wasn't allowed to walk in them. It was intrusive, yet all too personal. It might just be his imagination, but he thinks he can feel the pebbles on the ground and the sparse weeds growing out of the cracked earth under his toes. It's unsettling the way it feels to wear the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. The way his metal hand feels on his leather steering wheel.

Shiro grumbles to himself before moving to pack a few water bottles into his pack. There's just enough room for him to fit three next to the climbing ropes, a compass, a crumpled map not of this area, his old communicator, and his survival knife. He briefly wonders if Keith would like his knife. It would be of more use to a knife collector than to Shiro anyways.

Before he locks his truck's door (which he thinks is completely useless if the windows are always down, but he does it anyways) he snatches the trail mix he had bought earlier from the passenger's seat. If he gets lost, he supposes he wouldn't mind dried pineapples to be his last meal.

He chooses not to look back at his truck and starts his trek up the worn path, in fear he might turn tail and return to the road. This was a good thing, he assures himself. It's been a while since he's gotten out and moved. He recalls his therapist advising him that fresh air and exercise would do well for him, though he had gotten in the habit of avoiding just that.

The trail leads Shiro deeper into the desert and eventually up into a slightly mountainous area where the outline of the trail disappears. To be honest, Shiro didn't really know where he was going. To be frank, he lost track of where he was going two hours into the trail. And to be Shiro, he thought, was a cruel and unfair thing.

A deep and justifiably tired sigh rolls from his throat as Shiro leans against a rocky outcrop. He takes a moment to look off into the distance and at the slowly darkening sky. Gone were the blue dried seas and replaced with crimson dusted tides that overlooked the area Shiro found himself in. The ground is slightly elevated upwards, moving Shiro closer to the heavens if he truly is lost or closer to the vultures circling above. Whichever comes first.

The compass in his hand was strangely spinning its needle lazily in all directions. It would have seemed strange to Shiro any other day, but he simply tucks it back into his pocket.

Shiro decides to give up and lay down next to a particularly large rock, prostrating himself to the vultures once again, and contemplating life as he usually does for the final time. It was when he closed his eyes a single thought comes to mind. "It's a shame I won't get to hear Keith's voice again." That was when he hears someone speak.

_"Keep going."_

His eyes fly open and his eyes dart around the area.

It's not the voice he was expecting. It's not Keith's voice, of course. Of course not, Shiro laughs bitterly. His radio was back at his truck next to the highway. Shiro also thinks it's funny that he cares more about missing another Volt Vale broadcast than his own impending death. He's about to close his eyes again and try to recreate Keith's voice in his head when the voice rings out again.

_"Keep moving, you're almost there."_

Shiro's eyes are open this time, but the mysterious voice is accompanied by no body. It's in his head.

_"A bit further up, and you'll find some answers."_

It's a voice he can't imagine. It's sweet and luring but at the same time, ambiguous and omnipresent. If Shiro knows anything about sweet luring voices, it's that he must follow them. He just has to.

The strange pull was back again, tugging Shiro further into the desert which he completely complies with. Dusk was licking at his heels with every step. The sound of desert wildlife comes to life as the curtain of day falls. Sweetly, the voice in his head directs him with caring tugs to some unknown destination.

The earth beneath the soles of his boots ground down on sandy pebbles that slowly turn into smooth coarse rock. Shiro finds himself at the mouth of a small cave. A small, dark cave.

 _"Keep going,"_ the voice continues, both in such a caring and lulling voice, yet also uncaring about the dangers of continuing.

Shiro stares into the darkness of the cave. "But it's dark," he mumbles, almost petulantly like a child.

 _"Keep going,"_ the voice insists. Shiro thinks there was a slight impatience to the voice. _"It'll be fine. Answers lay within."_

At the promise of answers, Shiro cautiously steps blindly into the cave. In the back of his mind, he's screaming at himself for recklessly following this voice that most likely is a product of his fatigue and depression. Even further in the back of his mind, he thinks it's fine.

Using his hands to crawl along the wall of the cave, Shiro wanders in further from the mouth of the cave. There's a slight breeze wafting in through the cave. It tousles his hair just as a mother would run her fingers through her child's hair in a soothing gesture. Shiro smells what he can only describe as the scent before a thunderstorm hits.

It seems as if the cave would go on forever until a pale light blue light peeks from the deepest part of the cave.

Shiro stops in his tracks and a gasp falls from his mouth. "Wow…"

The glowing light grows brighter as Shiro paces closer to the source. He reaches out his hand that was previously feeling up the cave walls out to the point where the light shone the brightest.

The majestic carving of a lion glows beneath his flesh fingertips. The light reflects fleetingly off his metal ones. It's one of many glowing carvings that light up this large hidden sanctum.

He follows a trail of light across the cave walls, fingertip to pressed against pale blue lightly as if caressing something precious. There are more lions or rather, lionesses now that he looks closer. Five in total, he counts. Really big ones.

There are various scenes carved into the wall, all glowing the same mysterious light. They all look ancient and mystifying in Shiro's eyes. And a little too unbelievable.

"This must be a hell of a hallucinatio-Ow!" As if in response to Shiro's disbelief, a small rock falls from the ceiling and pelts him on his back. "Okay… a painful hallucination." He picks up the offending rock and inspects it carefully. It's glowing the same mesmerizing blue.

Shiro's confused, disoriented, and just a bit scared. "You promised answers, but all I have are more questions," he asks aloud. "And a blue rock."

There's no answer except his echo that reverberates his solitude. "Hey, answer me!" He yells out in frustration. He throws his pack down next to the glowing cave wall after moments pass with no response.

"I just want answers…" he says again, this time softer but to mostly nothing. More minutes pass and Shiro's sure that it's already night outside.

Shiro sits dejectedly next to his pack, back against the glowing wall. It feels cool against his back, but it does nothing to make him feel better.

His voice is tired and he can feel it in his face. It's here in the darkness that he feels utterly lost and disappointed, tired and bitter, and finally, truly alone. Shiro pulls his knees closer to him and buries his head in his crossed arms. His heart feels a certain tightness he's felt many times before, though this time it tugs at more than just his heartstrings.

He tightly clenches his eyes shut, and his chest shudders just a bit.

"Please… answer me," he whispers silently to the void.

" _Please._.."

A buzz crackles through the stale air in the cave. Shiro doesn't even bother to look up.

Another crackle.

_"…-hen everyone speaks, it's deafening. When no one speaks, it's the loudest,"_

The sweat runs cold on Shiro's frozen back against the glowing wall. _Where…?_

_"I'll speak, but I've got nothing much to say. If you're okay with just that... Welcome to Volt Vale."_

Shiro slowly and wearily sits up. The sound is coming from his pack. That alluring intro to Volt Vale's radio show trickles in as a muffled sound from within his pack, though Shiro could clearly make out Keith's voice.

He could recognize that voice even through miles in space.

He would follow it beyond space and back.

He would blindly follow it through the suffocating vacuum of deep space since it seems that this voice has done just the same for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S.O.S: Save Our Shiro!
> 
> Thanks for reading again! And for the comments on my previous chapters! They really motivated me to keep writing!


	4. Trail Mix and Conspiracy Theories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished editing the last chapter! I'm glad I decided to end it where I did in the previous one. It would have definitely been too long lol

In the dark, illuminated only by the glowing carvings on the walls, Shiro was about to have a light shined upon all the questions he had. Or at least, he hoped. For now, the more concerning question he wanted answered was where that savior of a voice was coming from.

Confused but definitely intrigued, Shiro digs into his discarded pack and rests his eyes upon his old radio communicator. His old, _broken_ communicator he adds. It's been broken since it's last use, which happened to be Shiro's own last use. They salvaged it as they salvaged him and though it was in mostly one piece, it would never see any use again. But clearly, the power indicator light is flickering weakly like a small flame in the dark.

Shiro holds the communicator close to him carefully, afraid he would break it if he even breathed on it. He eyed the green flickering LED light warily but also with fascination.

_"Thanks for tuning in again. As much as I bitch about how crappy this job is… I really appreciate knowing some people like listening to me. As few as there are. Still, thank you."_

' _No,_ ' Shiro thinks, ' _thank you._ ' He could feel tension leaving his back as he relaxes his shoulders against the wall.

_"Aah, anyways… Let's start with some news._

_In the latest update to the water crisis in Volt Vale, our very own Town Scientist Pidge has announced that she's found the cause for it. She says it's because we don't actually have a water source in our town. It's a big relief to finally know what's wrong, although it was kind of obvious if you think about it. No offense to Pidge though. She works hard to solve our problems with the help of science."_

At the mention of water, Shiro realizes he's absolutely parched. His throat was dried from his trek into the desert, and he hadn't had a sip of water for a while now. He props the communicator up against the glowing rock that fell on him and reaches for one of the water bottles in his pack.

_"Pidge is really cool. She knows a lot about everything and then some. She's also my best friend and one of the few people that bother to hang out with me. She's been a good person to me since she and her family moved here from… hmm, I can't remember where. "_

Keith makes some disgruntled noises as he tries hard to remember where his dear friend was from. Shiro smiles at that through a large gulp of water. The water was warm and had a stale taste to it but despite that, each splash on his tongue felt cooler than the last.

 _"Well, I don’t remember. It doesn't matter anyways. All that matters is that she's here and her father Professor Holt is here, and her brother…"_   Keith's voice becomes trails off somberly. _"Oh… I guess her brother isn't really around anymore…_

_I mean, he's around somewhere. He's just out of town is all. We all miss him a lot. Pidge especially. She misses working together with him in the unmarked labs near the great ditch at the outskirts of town. I don't think there's a day we don't miss him. Pidge keeps herself distracted with her many experiments for our town, and you can hear her progress loudly through the daily explosions from the unmarked labs._

_Professor Holt similarly distracts himself as well. He's taken up the role as our Town Doctor. Our town doesn't really have a university or college for him to teach at, so we let him be our town doctor since it's been centuries since we've had one. We figured it would be fine because he's got a doctorates degree. So far no one has died in years."_

That… didn't sound right, Shiro thought, for many reasons.

_"Speaking of death counts, up next is everyone's favorite subject. Sport. Pull up your sweatpants and toss a stick, because we're about to get sporty."_

"Huh, Keith never struck me as a sporty type of guy," Shiro thinks while squishing his now empty water bottle in his metal hand. Plastic crinkles and collapses easily in his grip.

As if Keith heard Shiro slander his name with the mention of sport, he continues to speak if only to clarify himself.

_"No, I'm not a guy of sport. Although, if you ask that Gossipy Mailman Lance he would probably say he was my rival in gym class during our high school days. I don’t care for sport. I had even less care for gym class. And I certainly care lesser for Lance's supposed rivalry._

_While we did go to high school together for a bit at Altea High, I can't remember having gym class with him. Sometimes I feel like I don't have any memories of going to high school, but I still vaguely remember the outline of the gym if anything._

_Yesterday in that ambiguous outline of the Altea High gymnasium, our hardworking Altea Mountain Lions battled it out against the visiting Galra Bluff Furries from the neighboring town in the anticipated high school sport match. I'm not sure what Galra High's mascot is, but I do know it has a lot of fur and is an ungodly shade of purple. I'm also not sure it's a costume._

_The two teams fought in their sport to the last buzzer sound and I've been told that the Altea Mountain Lions formed together into a giant robot and quashed the inquisition of the laser-toting Galra Bluff Furries. The crowds were wild and filled the stands to the brim, all chanting in unison the name of the robot they've fondly taken to calling Voltron in honor of our dear town."_

The idea of robot fighting as a sport seemed novel and fun in Shiro's mind, though he thinks he would probably prefer a physical sport over it. Shiro actually enjoyed physical activity despite his half-a-year break from any exercise. His legs stretch out from beneath him, cracking at the tired joints with a loud pop. He missed the feeling of wind behind him. Feeling it behind his open truck windows just wasn't the same.

_"I didn't go to the match, but I heard the chanting from all the way to my shack. Up until 3:00 A.M., all I could hear was 'I say vol-, you say…!'_

_It drove me nuts since I couldn't figure out what the other half was. Every time they were about to finish the chant, some idiot would scream at the top of his lungs of nothing in particular. Just really loud whoops like they didn't want me to hear the end of the chant."_

"Oh, Keith," Shiro mutters. "You poor soul."

_"I still don't get their stupid chant, but whatever... Actually, you know what? No. I know who was screaming at that game. It was Gossipy Mailman Lance, I know that high pitched screech from anywhere, especially behind industrial strength doors five miles from my front porch._

_Who does he think he is? A human megaphone? Some people want to hear the end of a chant, not your ear-splitting screaming. I know it was you, Lance. That's why this morning when you handed me my mail and the leftover pizza from Big Hunk's Pizza's special game-winning free give-away, (get yours from Big Hunk's Pizza from today to last week while supplies last, this is a message from Big Hunk's Pizza) your voice was completely wrecked. You get what you deserve."_

A childish _'hmph,"_ could be heard over the microphone, and Shiro smiled and shook his head at Keith's antics. It was all too endearing. Shiro could just imagine him with a scowl over his face and his arms crossed grumpily across his chest.

_"Not that I was interested in the game. I could care less about who wins. Everyone knows Altea High wins every time. Galra High sucks. They're always using non-standardized lasers and androids at their games._

_For shame, Galra High. For shame._

_Also, everyone knows their coach uses forbidden druid magic to rig the game, but the Altea Lions always overcome it with hard work and determination._

_I respect those who put their all into everything they do. I admire it. I think it takes a special kind of determination to continue doing their best at something no matter how difficult or unrewarding it is. No matter how much the world tries to push them down, they keep on getting back up. Even though they're wobbling, they're still walking forward._

_No matter how little they get back in return, each small step rewards them in a small, but significant amount of motivation to keep on going."_

Those words may have not been pointed towards Shiro, but it hits his heart in all the right spots. Shiro exhales a held breath that shudders in the damp cave air. At some point, he had completely crushed the water bottle in his hand. He grimaces at its disfigured shape and puts it back into his pack. His hand brushes against something at the bottom of his pack that makes a crinkling sound.

In the dim blue light, the plastic of his trail mix glares back at him. It looks a lot different than how it looked under the florescent lighting in the gas station. It looks a lot more appetizing, but perhaps that was just the effect of mysterious glowing lights.

_"Sorry, I'm getting off topic again. Station Management always tells me off about it. Which by the way…"_

Keith's voice lowers and takes on a mischievous glint. Shiro chuckles and opens his bag of trail mix like a bag of freshly popped popcorn.

_"Station Management also does not approve of how I refer to her on air. She doesn't like being called Station Management, and for some reason people seem to think she's a six-headed dragon. I don't know what would make people think that."_

Petty, Shiro thinks. But it looks good on him. Or his voice at least.

_"It's been fun, but it's also my paycheck on the line so from here on out, nothing but professional news reporting from me… After I waste some more time on air. And then maybe some more._

_It's not my fault I go off topic. News around Volt Vale is boring and everyone already knows about everything. Shit, even Lance could do my job while he does his, which he already does by the way."_

"I would listen to anything that came out of your mouth," Shiro says around a mouthful of peanuts and pineapple. It's a weird combination he thinks. But he likes weird.

_"Anyways, I still owe it to Allura to make her look good at her own radio station. If you didn't know for some reason, Allura, the majestic daughter of our town's very own Mayor Alfor, owns this wonderful establishment of Volt Vale's Broadcasting Station. She is our humble, generous, and completely forgiving Station Management who I owe entirely to my job and then some."_

Shiro supposes he ought to thank Allura as well, for whatever he gains from this strange radio show.

_"She's amazing for many reasons. But that doesn't mean she doesn't come without some odd quirks. I can see her scowling through the glass in front of me right now. Love you, 'llura. You're like the big sister I never had, but god you look ridiculous with the extra heads on your shoulders._

_By extra heads I mean her pet mice she brings around everywhere. There's five of them, and they like riding around on her shoulders all the time. It was cute when she was younger, now they're like extra bosses staring me down. Red doesn't appreciate them either._

_Okay, okay. You can stop setting the station on fire, Allura. I'll get back to whatever it was I was reporting about."_

He wasn't entirely sure, but Shiro thinks the fire is figurative.

_"Alright, back to… uh, the high school match between Altea High vs. Galra High. Um… Sport, I guess._

_Oh, I forgot, Principal Trayling gave me a handout to advertise about the school's conjoined community and rec. center and their various services. Hold on, it's here somewhere…_

_Ah, found it. Next to the emergency escape plans. They also gave me a bunch of promotional stickers. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them. On the front they say:_

**FOR YOUTH RECRUITMENT**

**FOR HEALTHY TO SOMEWHAT-LIVING LIVING**

**FOR SPIRITUAL IRRESPONSIBILITY**

**ALTEA COMMUNITY & REC. CENTER®**

_They’re really long stickers. I’m going to tape a few of these next to the coffee maker so Red can play with them later. I’ll read the message now before Station Mana- I mean, Allura gets mad._

_'The prestigious Altea High School of Volt Vale would like to remind the community of our great community and rec. center that was graciously donated by our Mayor Alfor during his 53rd term. The rec center is still located next to our also donated gymnasium on days that end in 'y'. We are open to the public 24/7 so please drop by at any time between 3:00 P.M to 6:00 A.M. If visiting at midnight, we ask that you be mindful of our ritual goers and pliates classes.'_

Munching on a stale piece of pineapple, Shiro recalls his blotchy memory of volunteering at the rec center back at home. He had helped many kids at the offered tutoring services and often gave friendly advice to people at the gym. It was one of the few things he was proud about in his past.

_"I remember I used to hang out at the rec center. I… had a lot of time after my dad left me. I learned to fight there. Maybe not in the rec center itself. More like behind the rec center next to the dumpsters. Still, it was a nice place to waste time at._

_It was where I met Pidge's brother Matt Holt. He held a community gathering there every weekend. 'Conspiracies and Theories: The Truth is Out There and We're All Stuck Here', he had called it._

_I don't remember much from it, but Matt was pretty memorable. He was our Town Conspiracy Theorist, and a damn good one at that. The things he would say would blow your mind. He was cool, but people in town didn't really like him that much. They thought he was weird. I like weird though._

_At first, he kept going on about how strange Volt Vale was. This was around when the Holts had first moved here. They said they were here to study the irregular seismic waves going through the town. It's funny, they said it should have torn our entire town down. Obviously, we're still here. Sometimes science isn't always right. Even the best of us make mistakes."_

It was more supernatural than scientific, Shiro thought. Everything about Volt Vale was supernatural-like. That must have been why Shiro was so drawn to it. It was the supernatural that felt the most natural to him now.

_"Eventually, Pidge and Professor Holt retracted their earlier statements about the irregularities they found in Volt Vale. They became assimilated into our quaint little town, but Matt didn't fit in so easily. He would continuously argue with Pidge about why they were suddenly acting as if the town wasn't not normal. We all thought he was joking around, but it became clear he was serious about the things he said._

_He kept claiming that there shouldn't be a collapsible dimensional pocket next to the Sherriff's Department, or how the ancient Arusian Sea shouldn't even geographically exist next to our town, or even how there's electricity being produced at the old Volt Vale Electrical Plant when it's been abandoned for years and has no source for energy to come from._

_There was a lot of other stuff he kept saying too. Like how there are towns different from Volt Vale with towering tree like buildings and those metal boxes people like to sit and scoot around from place to place. Or how there's a guy that's not Mayor Alfor who makes decisions for some country we're in. Or even like how there's a force field around our little town that's keeping us stuck here."_

That would certainly be a good reason to why Shiro can't find this Volt Vale town on any map. Not as sound as the hallucination theory, but at least Volt Vale exists in that route.

_"Actually, I take back that last one. The force field? Yeah, that definitely exists. I like to wander out of town every now and then even though people keep telling me I shouldn't._

_There's this nice cliff ledge I like to sit and dangle my legs over. It's a quiet little place a couple miles from the town border. You can see a bunch of shiny boxes flying by with people in them going somewhere or another. Sometimes I sit there and think about the usual things like life and where we're all headed._

_The shitty thing is, I can only go there on certain days for a certain amount of time. It's a fickle force field and downright petty if you insult it. I got locked out once for an entire night 'cause I called it a jerk for telling me to head back early. Spent the entire night huddled next to a cactus in nothing but the thin clothes on my back, the fingerless gloves on my hands, and my red jacket wrapped around me. She only let me back in when I apologized in the morning."_

"She…?" Shiro offhandedly questions around a bite of chocolate. He's finished off all the dried pineapple and suddenly misses its tangy tropical sweetness.

_"I guess Matt wasn't completely wrong. It's a shame he left because of that though. He left in a hurry sometime last year, saying he's fed up with his family and this town's obliviousness. He took a bunch of his equipment with him and swore to prove that Volt Vale was not normal._

_He hasn't stepped a foot in town since then._

_Pidge and I have tried our best to find him, but we haven't seen him since then. I really wanted to help her search for her brother after she helped me try to track down my parents. We never found either, but I feel like we're closer to finding her brother at least. It's just a weird feeling. Something keeps telling me that Matt's out there and he's fine. It also tells me to assure Pidge that Matt didn't leave because of them._

_No matter what though, I kind of understand what Pidge is going through. Um… this might be oversharing, but what the hell, right? No one's really listening so, why not?"_

There's a shuddering deep breath being taken in and breathed out that sounds way clearer than it had any right to be on Shiro's old radio communicator.

_"I... I used to think the reason why my parents left was because of me. It's illogical, right? I was a problem child, never got along with people, and I fought. A lot. I was just really bad at… you know, existing. My mom was never there, and my dad was always working. That sort of sap story. He tried though. But I guess I was just too stubborn to see it._

_Volatile, Principal Trayling had called me the day I got kicked out of high school.  I mean, he's not wrong. Everything that went wrong went wrong the day my dad left, but if I was honest, that was completely my fault and deep down I felt that for everything."_

Shiro had paused in his snacking and was now solemnly listening to Keith's heartfelt baring of his heart. This felt more personal than a mere comedy radio show. His hesitant words trembled on the unstable radio waves and resonated with Shiro's heart.

_"I'm still a mess even today. I eat froot loops and oreos for breakfast for god's sake. I dropped out of high school, and I'm lucky I even have a job now. I have less friends than I can count on my hand, and I continue to try their patience every single day…"_

Ruffles of cloth quickly wiping against skin and a soft wet exhale echoed against the glowing cave walls. It felt like a private moment and Shiro didn't dare move or make a sound. A few seconds passed, but Keith continues his words.

_"It doesn't matter though. I don't know truly if it was my fault for everything that had happened or if it was something bigger beyond my control._

_All I know is that it sure as hell is my fault for everything that has gone right afterwards. I made the effort to keep going. I made the effort to listen to my friends. I made the effort to take their help and start living again. I couldn't have done it without their help, but in the end, it was entirely me who caused it."_

His voice was a lot softer than before, though his words reached Shiro loud and clearly even through the crackling of his old communicator.

 _"…God, stop looking at me like that, Allura. Quit it, I'm not crying. And you better not tell Lance and Hunk about this later,"_ Keith mumbles through his embarrassment and eventually melts into a soft chuckle.

_"Don't complain to me later about being off topic again. I guess I've filled out most of the air time tonight. I feel like I've said way too much tonight. Something about spilling your guts into a live microphone is a lot more comfortable than talking it out with an actual person. I don't know who I've been speaking to for the past half hour, but… thank you, I guess., for listening._

_I've sort of been lost for a while, but I guess I never really looked around to see that I was never far from home anyways. My dad always said I never had any luck following my moral compass, so it's a good thing I never stray far. But even if I do, I'll just follow the stars home._

_If you're ever lost, don't follow a damn compass. They're just useless pieces of junk. Follow the stars and they'll always lead you back, no matter how far you are away from home._

_Although, I suppose that's not much help if you're physically lost. I think. Anyways, thanks for tuning in tonight. Sorry if this was more off topic from news than usual. Just something about this night._

_Good night, listeners. Good night. And hey, thanks for listening…to everything."_

Shiro sat for a while listening to the crackling outro tune echo against the walls until he couldn't hear it at all. The communicator had made its way into his lap at some point during the broadcast. It now laid dead, cradled on his lap as if it had never turned itself on. The LED light no longer struggled to stay on. It was peacefully at rest now, and Shiro doubted it could ever turn on again. It didn't have to.

Carefully, Shiro packed up his communicator and the last of his trail mix. After some contemplating, he also pocketed the glowing rock as well. Its shine was proof enough that this happened. He wasn't doubting anymore.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool damp air that was slightly sweetened with the scent of dried invisible pineapples.

That night after making his way blindly out of the dark cave, Shiro found the stars to be the clearest he's ever seen them. Like glass shards twirling and sinking into a deep tank of water in the sky, plunging the dry and cold landscape of the desert into an ocean of icy water. A single shard that seemed brighter and sharper than any other in the sky pulled him forward through the desert for a surprisingly and unbelievably short walk until he hit the edge of the high way and eventually where his truck was still waiting for him.

As he felt his truck rumble awake with a turn of his key, he thought to himself that Keith was very right.

The stars would always lead him back, and he never did stray that far away in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading again!


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